


For the bad decisions that we made

by Hopeful_Foolx



Series: Bastards get to be soft sometimes [4]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Bonding over plans to murder people, Eiffel is there for like one moment though, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, He is not pouting, Hurt/Comfort, I am projecting holy shit, Jokes about Kepler's height, Kepler is alive AU, M/M, Nightmares, Past Character Death, Spoilers, Spoilers for Episode 61: Brave new world, THEY SORT THINGS OUT, Warren Kepler is human, and they were quarantined, i can't believe it, or like, talking about Alana, they start
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26318434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopeful_Foolx/pseuds/Hopeful_Foolx
Summary: Against all odds, Warren Kepler survives. When he wakes up on earth to a pissed Jacobi, Hera having taken over Goddard and Eiffel all new, talking happens. Plus: France, Sweden and flexible parts in Kepler's plans
Relationships: Daniel Jacobi/Warren Kepler
Series: Bastards get to be soft sometimes [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1972921
Comments: 11
Kudos: 35





	1. Just adding fire to our flame

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo!!! As promised, my take on 'Kepler survives but he'll suffer for it', because I... needed that? The three chapters are largely finished, there will be a part in Jacobi's view because because. They don't deserve softness, but they'll still get it (kinda).

Up to a point, life had always been plannable for Warren Kepler. Up to a point, of course, because he wanted to have all the options, all the time. He could plan and leave a few variables open, just to be safe. Just to be sure. It brought him through all the missions, through messing up at Goddard. It brought him here. A plan and just enough flexibility. It changed on the Hephaestus. He planned, and not all plans worked - his flexibility in some parts became an unstable element. And even the stable elements got loose - Maxwell, Jacobi. Control. He lost control. He lost Maxwell, his hand, and control. He lost Jacobi. Daniel. He isn’t even sure about the order it happened in, he isn’t sure why. That is maybe the worst part - he doesn’t even know why. When Pryce and Cutter arrived and seized their own control, well, he… He had been relieved, even if only for the one reason that he had a stable element to focus on again. A plan, no flexibility, but a plan. He hadn’t hoped that they would lose control of the station like he did before, at some point he considered it, of course. He waited for Cutter to take him apart every waking moment, and since he couldn’t really sleep, those were a lot. He just waited for him to tie a noose around his neck, he waited for him to take him apart limb by limb, making him watch. Making Daniel watch, too. Likely. They didn’t once think about the possibility that Kepler could turn on them, and when he thought about it, why would he? They had Daniel, the last member of his team still alive. They made him a mindless drone and Kepler had to watch, knowing that if Cutter wanted to make him suffer, he would have Jacobi stand by the door and smile and smile and smile. The smile made him want to throw up. But  _ he _ screwed up,  _ he _ lost control of the station until Cutter himself came up here. Cutter knew his one weak point. And he used it, and the worst is still that Kepler had always done the same. Find the weak spots. Use them. He did it with Eiffel here, he did it with all of them. He knew how. Flexibility. 

But there is one thing about flexibility, one thing Cutter either considered too much or not at all, Kepler had never been the unstable element. In all his plans, he himself was the only always standing constant, but here? He doesn’t remember when he knew he couldn’t do it anymore. Not out of humanity, hell no, he has lost that long ago and he’s not that much of a fool to pride himself in regaining it. Maybe when he realized Daniel wasn’t with him anymore. Maybe it had started then, but the breaking point, he knows the breaking point. He doesn’t want earth gone. For purely egoistic reasons, of course. He wants to go back, he doesn’t want to die in space - and when he realized, a second later, that that would paradoxically mean that he maybe had to die in space to prevent that?    
At least Daniel wouldn’t have to die in space. 

He cares about Daniel, so that makes his motives egoistic again, and that’s fine. And he knew, the moment he shot Rachel… He knew that he himself likely wouldn’t get out of this alive. And hell, he didn’t fucking care. Before this blasted mission, they had something, and no, he doesn’t blame the mission, he blames Goddard and he blames himself. Because he always trusted Cutter and he understands while Jacobi felt used by Kepler, he understands because he feels used by Cutter. Not that he ever thought he’d value his life, not that he ever thought he was important. He is not that much of a fool.   
Just that he thought he himself would bear the blame for messing up, not his team. Before he cared too much, before he cared too much about both of them and especially Jacobi. Before, when everything was still… So different. The three of them against the world, the three of them against the world but with a plan, because Kepler always had a plan and he didn’t when he shot Rachel. He did not plan to die, but this flexible element? Either way, it increased Daniel’s chances to get off the station, or maybe something else, but it couldn’t make it worse. So he shot Rachel Young and thought about how he said Goodbye to Daniel before, not planning to die and … dying. 

Which is a problem. 

He remembers dying. He remembers not getting out of the chamber, drinking the last of his scotch and he made peace with it in that moment. Maybe it’s a symbol, he thought then - the last of his scotch in his last minute? Even better. 

No solar flare to hit and change him. 

No savior to open the inner door. 

No last thought. 

Just he alone, like it should be. He doesn’t go out in a shootout, not in an explosion or ripped apart by Mr. Cutter. It even amuses him - he even managed to kill his killer! Nothing is a plan anymore, and he? 

Warren Kepler did regret things, of course. But none of them mattered in his last moments. None of them mattered in his last moments - because he didn’t intend to waste them. The scotch on his tongue. The memory of saying goodbye to Daniel. Saying  _ Thank you, Daniel. And goodbye. _

And no last thought. 

Nothingness, and he didn’t expect heaven - nor hell for that matter, no white clouds or fires. He expected nothing and nothingness is what he got, at first at least. He did not expect fuzzy pictures, certainly no light and movement, not Daniel Jacobi shouting something. Not Daniel Jacobi’s voice in general.

“You don’t get to leave so easily, asshole” not the feeling of fire on his skin.

And then, coldness. Just that. It had been cold. He had been cold, incredibly so. Apart from something warm now and then, what he thinks might be his hand, his head, but he is not sure about his body anymore. He shouldn't have a body, he thinks. He should be dead, Warren Kepler should have died. 

Which is also wrong, of course. He wouldn’t feel, the cold can’t be heaven but hearing Daniel’s voice, even if he can’t make out the words, means he can’t be in hell either. 

There is, of course, the possibility that he did not die. Frankly ridiculous. His flexible element had been that his death would increase the chance of success for Jacobi and the other’s, the percentage to be exact, had been the flexible part. Not dying. Standing in the airlock-chamber, dying had not been flexible. Not avoidable. 

And then, awareness comes, and plans, memories, flexible parts of plans, everything is gone. He is aware, aware of how he has a body. It feels heavy, so heavy, like pressing him down, holding him when he should not feel like this. And how he is cold. Nothing is really more consuming than the cold. 

But he is aware that he is… somewhere. He tries to take a breath and chokes, something blocks it and then there is noise, he is moving, he doesn’t want to move, he shouldn’t move when he is not sure where he is, they’ll know he is awake that way, it’s just that- Dead men don’t breathe. Dead men don’t choke while trying to breathe, and he tries desperately to. 

  
“Colonel!” shouts someone and he doesn’t recognize the voice, his eyes fly open but there is nothing he can see, he needs to breathe, needs to-    
But he falls out of existence again for some time, until, gently, quietly, and he can breathe again when Jacobi touches his arm, he feels impossibly even heavier now, asks himself how he had been able to move, never, ever again, and the touch, he feels the touch and it’s warm and...

“Damnit, Warren” First names. He dwells on the first name, the way Jacobi says it, and he knows how his lips move when he speaks. He knows even if he can’t open his eyes. There is something on his face, pressing into the skin around his mouth and nose. He has a mouth and a nose, he realizes, that’s good, but he forgets why a moment later, because he dwells on Jacobi and dreams of touch.

  
  


The next time he wakes, there is movement. The scratching of a chair over the floor and it bothers him, he shouldn’t… The sound is wrong. Chairs are not like this, not in space. He frowns at the noise and tries to sort it, but comes up with nothing aside from the wish to just fall back asleep. But he can’t. He needs to know why there is a chair _ in space _ . He needs to know why he feels so wrong. 

“Kepler?” Again, the chair, and he frowns more or tries to. The muscles in his face protest, and he feels his face relax, without him doing so. 

“Come on, Warren, look at me” First names, not Colonel but Warren. What? How? He tries to open his eyes, but his eyelids are heavy, so heavy. Light filters through, mostly just light. It makes him want to go to sleep again. He doesn’t. He is stubborn now. 

“Yeah, that’s it” He blinks again and the brightness turns to shapes, and again and shapes are out of focus, but there. Color. 

Jacobi. 

But his name dies on his tongue when he wants to say it, instead, he loses focus again when coughing disrupts it. 

Ice on his tongue, water in his throat. He is tired, so tired but he doesn’t want to sleep. He is not floating. He is heavy, too heavy.

“Daniel” he finally rasps out and almost flinches listening to his own voice. To his surprise, the man looking at him grins. 

“So your brain does still work” It appears like that was the matter, and he almost answers that before realizing that it would take too much effort. 

“Wh-” His lungs are too tight but sitting up makes it a little easier, “What…” He can barely move his head to look around, but there are a few things he gets. It’s dim, white. If he didn’t know better, it looks like Goddard’s medical wing, but… It can’t be. Space. No, not-floating. Not-space?

“Yep. Welcome back to earth. If you’re feeling like someone replaced your bones with concrete, that’s the spirit” Daniel looks… tired. Sounds tired. He is wearing a Goddard shirt, is barefoot and has his legs up on a second chair. Comfy. Why?

“No retort?” Warren just continues to look at him. He doesn’t understand. It makes no sense, this can’t be it. Gravity, Jacobi, impossible, both of it. 

“Daniel, what-” he swallows, takes a breath, “what is going on?” It sounds too pleading, and he realizes that he actually is. He’s not the only one and Jacobi sighs and shakes his head. 

“Yeah, sorry” the warm feeling is still there, still around his hand, but he can’t move enough to look, just tries to move his fingers nevertheless. Jacobi grips his hand tighter back and shakes his head again, and he tries to make sense of how their hands are intertwined and why Jacobi is here. But nothing actually makes sense.

“I’m still pissed at you, just so you know” 

“Yes, wouldn’t expect less” he whispers back, it’s more on autopilot than anything else, and Jacobi just grins brighter for a moment. Beautiful, his brain provides. Beautiful. 

“But what… what is happening?” He asks again, even if the few words are already too much. He takes in what he can, the fading bruises on his face, the yellow-green around his eyes. The way he holds himself upright too stiff. 

“What do you remember?” Cold. Just cold and darkness, voices and sensations. Cold. Just the cold.

“I… I died” He summarises

“Okay, wrong. You  _ nearly _ died. We found you in the airlock, half-frozen but somehow still there. You kept crashing when he tried to stabilize you, we had to put you in cryo for the rest of the journey” 

“It was cold”

“Yeah, we know the airlock jammed, but I also set off an explosion in the station. The timeline is pretty blurry. We wouldn’t have looked if Hera didn’t say something about… yeah” he shakes his head and runs his free hand through his hair.    
“When we arrived here, or like, crashed more like it, we got picked up by Goddard. They defrosted you, though  _ very _ slowly,” he puts emphasis on the ‘very’ and strains the ‘e’, “and you were comatose for about 12 days. Few days ago, you woke up and started fighting against the breathing tube. So, that’s that” He remembers.

“Goddard?” Single words are so much easier, and Jacobi seems to get the cues. 

“Ah, yes Goddard. It’s a mess, to say the least. But I’m not sure about everything that’s going on outside, to be honest. We’re quarantined, at least until they are sure we’re not bringing anything with us, and until we’re back on our feet. We kind of let the treadmill slide a little too much, all of us” All of them. How many are left? And who?

“I can feel that” he tries to joke, but it’s too weak to be considered funny and too whispered, Jacobi’s face turns grim again. 

“Yeah, you are one to talk. You got intubated because you were too weak to even breathe”

“Yet here I am?” He mumbles back and sighs. He’s alive. With muscle atrophy and a lot of missing time. 

“Yet here we are” A pause, and Warren closes his eyes. There is a lot he needs to know, but maybe at a time when he’ll actually remember it. He isn’t so sure now, “You should rest” It’s not the full sentence, there is more, Jacobi wants to say more and Warren needs to know. He has to know. 

“...but?” He tries after a moment and Jacobi hasn’t moved and didn’t look away. He feels his eyes on him, 

“When did you decide to… We found Rachel. You shot her” Not a question. Another pause, “when did… did you change sides?” Sides. It’s an interesting question, though one he knows he quibbled with before. He still doesn’t have a better answer.

“I thought… When Cutter and Pryce arrived” He swallows and needs to focus again, opens and closes his eyes to help with that, “that they wouldn’t… I thought my word would be enough” He sighs, “to… to have them trust you too” He thought he had the worth. He thought he was trusted. He never thought himself such a fool than how he had proved himself to be. 

“You. Me. Goddard. Like before. I thought… This was the way it would be” The thought hurts and he draws a shaky breath that doesn’t really fill his lungs. He is so exhausted. Staying awake hurts, his whole body hurts, he just wants to sleep. He says sleep because he also wants to… No! No, he won’t and can’t do  _ that _ . Not here, now, no, not with the news he hasn’t processed yet. Not ever in front of Jacobi. Not ever in front of himself. 

“And then they didn’t. Couldn’t trust them anymore, and so…” So tired. So extremely tired.

“So you just… what?” Focus is even harder now. He can’t  _ focus _ , and he can barely keep himself from actually saying what he thinks.  _ So I stopped trusting them. Because while I can’t admit that I’m wrong, I can try not to be wrong again. Because with all of humanity on the line, I just couldn’t. You don’t need a heart, you don’t need to be human to choose their side.  _

“Egotistical reasons. Couldn’t lose you” He finally gets out and hears Jacobi laugh at that and answer, he knows that he doesn’t believe him, can’t hear, because he is already gone again.

  
  


When he wakes up the next time, someone is humming. This time, it doesn’t take so long to open his eyes. He blinks and sees sunlight filtering through the blinds. He is still propped up, but less than before. It’s good, he feels like he can breathe easier that way. It’s sunlight, he realizes when he blinks into it, how long has it been? How long since he saw actual sunlight? It’s reflecting from a metal pole and for the first time, he actually looks at the room, when he before only took in Jacobi. He knows the medical wing better than he would like to admit, it’s a standard-issue room. Bed, machines, cables. He looks down to see them connected to him, his finger, his chest. His heartbeat. He can feel and hear his heartbeat, his actual heart. Still beating. Because he is alive, isn’t he? 

“Oh, you are awake!” He jumps at Eiffels voice and turns his head to look at him. Something is… Something is different. Why is he grinning? It’s contagious. Almost.

“Yes, Officer Eiffel” He answers in reflex and sighs, Jacobi is angry but will contain that until Kepler is actually awake and well enough to explain, but Eiffel? He isn’t so sure, maybe he judges the grin wrong? Because he can’t be… happy to see him awake.

“Daniel said I should watch out”  _ Daniel? _ “He’s at physical therapy, said you’d love to wake up with me being here? I don’t know our history together, but I don’t really have anything to do, so” he shrugs, and Kepler considers the possibility that he got put on the damn good painkillers, which wouldn’t be a first, and he hallucinated before. Multiple times.

“You… You don’t…” Maybe Cryo wasn’t so good for his brain after all. Would make more sense than Eiffel being… Like this.

“I don’t remember, I lost my memory. All of it. According to Isabel and Renee, it was stupid and brave, but…” he shrugs, “But I’m trying?” First names. 

“You don’t remember… anything?” He needs to clarify.

“I’m not the only one, Miranda, Dr. Pryce, really, got the same treatment” Now his head is spinning. Pryce? How did she lose her memory? And … all of it?

“You don’t suppose you could… start at the beginning?” he asks carefully, and again, Eiffel shrugs

  
“Which one?” 

“Mr. Cutter?” he asks, even more careful. He can’t be alive if they are all here, or maybe he is just not himself anymore, like Pryce apparently is. 

“Harpooned” Kepler nearly chokes when Eiffel provides that information as if he is just talking about the weather. 

“Just start… slightly earlier?” He rasps out when he has recovered enough to actually talk. 

\--

When Jacobi gets back later, Warren has dozed off again. A doctor came to see him in between, a full set of contamination clothes, and the prodding and questions left him too tired for anything else. He still drags his eyes open when Jacobi taps in and lets himself fall onto the other bed in the room. 

“So… Eiffel is brand new, Pryce too, Cutter got harpooned. Hera took over Goddard. Something else I should know, Mr. Jacobi?” His voice is still far quieter than he’d like it to be, and he lacks any sharp edges. He doesn’t really try, though. He sounds like a drunk just repeating what happened here. 

“Yes, the guy from physical therapy is worse than getting tortured in France that one time” His voice is muffled by his pillow and so he rolls to his side with some difficulty to understand him better. He only just manages, his muscles protesting all the way, and barely contains his groan when he can finally face him. Curious. And he remembers France. Well. Part of it. 

“Daniel” He sees his head peeking up from the pillows and how he has the audacity to grin. Why is everyone grinning today?

“I think you got the gist. We established Lovelace as Lovelace, by the way. No donating blood or anything like it, we agreed on that” Warren looks down to his hand. 

“Not what I meant” He tries to pull the blanket up higher, he is still cold, and now a shiver runs through his body. Daniel seems to notice but says nothing about it.

“What do you want me to say? Hey, Colonel, we got along without you, surprised? Thank you for… what? Everything? Keeping us in the dark? Seriously, what do you want to hear?” He sits up and swings his legs over the edge. His hand comes to his torso and he sees him wince slightly. Ribs then, like he thought before. Painful. Not for the first time he wishes for Maxwell. She had been better with these things, not with putting feelings into words, but kicking them into talking. Not only Jacobi, but Kepler too, in a way. 

“How are you holding up?” He swallows down his pride and looks Jacobi in the eyes as much as he is able to. It leaves him unnaturally passive, he is used to being the one in charge, but it feels different here. Personal, even. They haven’t had this in a long time, so he latches onto it now. He’s missed Jacobi, his Jacobi. While he is not sure he is still  _ his  _ Jacobi, or will ever be again. 

He doesn’t answer him, folds his hands and looks down. He knows when to push him, and now is not the time. Instead he gives in to turning on his back again and leaves him be. It’s not a stupid question, Warren Kepler does not ask stupid questions. He really wants to know. Because of Alana. Because of mind-control-devices. Because… Because he missed him. And because he wants him back, he won’t say the last part, but it’s true. He can go on. Find… anything. But he doesn’t particularly want to. What concerns him is how easy it is to leave the Colonel he is behind. The lines were to clear before the space mission, and then, while they were in space, they were not. Like one long mission, longer than any mission they ever had together, more complicated, more stressful. He can’t describe it. He can’t describe how he is sure it changed something between them, something he won’t ever be able to fix. And he just wishes, oh he wishes...

Jacobi nudges his arm and snaps him out of his thoughts, 

“Move” he commands and Kepler just raises his eyebrows, but uses the very limited range he has to make some space. It’s a tight fit and the weight of Jacobi’s head on his shoulder is comfortingly familiar. 

“Mr. Jacobi? What are you doing?” The last name slips off his tongue like he can’t prevent it, but he wishes he didn’t say it a second later. To his surprise, he doesn’t move. He stays there and throws an arm over Warren’s chest, who barely contains a groan when he does so. He wants to bring his hand up, but the medical… people removed the prosthetic Pryce had given him. 

“You didn’t complain when you were still in a coma” Jacobi grumbles and he smiles. He isn’t complaining.

“And now you have to deal with me again, I’m afraid” he actually huffs a laugh at that and Jacobi nudges him with a foot. 

“I missed you, you know” He says it more to his shoulder than to him.

“I thought you were angry?” he murmurs back and tries to move his legs aside some more. They are even heavier than the rest of his body, but at least he can still feel them. 

“I was. Still am. But…” he sighs, “On the ship, and later, I was angry with you. I thought you betrayed us, and I thought you left me in the hands of Pryce willingly. And then I thought you were dead. And then you didn’t, and Hera… showed me the tapes. You didn’t disable the cameras, and you rerouted power to her”

“Are you appealing to my humanity? Because I need to warn you, there is not much to save there”

“I am not. Because you didn’t die, you were pretty close but then you survived” There is a half-hidden memory of that, he thinks. Of Jacobi shouting at him. 

“But I also… I asked myself if we would work outside Goddard. If we… Because if you had died, I would have missed you. From all the screw ups, losing Alana and you hurt the most. Not… not even necessarily now, but before, losing my trust in you. I want to trust you. I want to… to have you” He knows what he means. There is no ‘before Goddard’ for them, for neither of them, but there is a before-space. The SI-5, the three of them against anything in the world. Other teams existed, of course, but Kepler’s team was the best. And they all knew that. He had been smitten by Jacobi far too fast, and knew pretty early that he… returned the feelings. Ironically, it made them a good team. The friendship between Maxwell and Jacobi, and how Jacobi and Kepler were a different kind of set - not that anyone was allowed to know, of course. He should have expected for Mr. Cutter to find them out. Still, before space, they had something. In space, they had something that they lost there. The cramped starship had no room for private conversations even, and they drifted apart. Kepler had always been good in separating work and private life, mostly because he never really had the latter, but then there was Jacobi. He hadn’t been there to comfort him after Alana. He even screwed up in keeping him safe later. 

“And I was angry, so angry, until… I just wasn’t anymore. I don’t have the energy, and I don’t want to waste my time with it. If you want to leave? Fine, at least then make sure our paths never cross again. But if you don’t want that, then stay, and we can make it work. You are all that I have left, it’s fucked up and… It’s fucked up. Completely. But we are both…” 

“We have the same demons, you mean” Because Jacobi is all that Warren has too. Because nobody else would understand their situation better, and nobody else could react appropriately. Because they are not good people, neither of them. 

  
“Yeah, pretty much” He sighs and moves his head, “think about it, Colonel” That sounds wrong he decides in the split second between the first and the second syllable. 

“Warren. Or… Kepler” He answers so fast, the last letter hasn’t even left Jacobi’s mouth who he can hear grin, “I don’t think I qualify as a Colonel anymore” He does. But does he want to be? There it is, the mismatched  _ him _ , because he hasn’t been Warren Kepler on the Hephaestus, he had been Colonel Kepler. There it is, clear in his mind when he struggled to put it into thought before - that’s it. Colonel Kepler. The reason he manages to be different when they are off mission. He forgot the flexible element resting in his mind, letting him switch between two sets of behavior. 

“That was fast” 

“Not much to think about when it wasn’t exactly a question, Daniel” Because it’s not. Jacobi talked about running away after the mission before, talked about leaving. Where nobody could find them. He still likes the idea, just that he never… never considered it to be an actual option. It doesn’t solve anything, a promise made with a hammering heart because he is still high on finding out he lost his job, didn’t die, and missed weeks in between is not exactly how he should solve anything. But there is a part to it that solves something, at least. He won’t just take it back. And he wouldn’t be like this if he was in his right mind, he isn’t and so he will make it possible to keep that promise by whatever means, because he can easily disguise it as a plan and ruining it is off the table. His whole life is a plan with angles he needs to carefully twist and ways he would never doubt, depending on the context. 

“I think I like it when you say my name like this” 

“Daniel?” He repeats, but it’s a question all the same. 

“Hm...” he sighs in his hair and moves a shaky arm up to half-hold him, and Daniel automatically takes his hand to help. A shaky promise. A stupid one. Too light. And he’ll rather die than prove his own madness wrong.

“Thank you” 

  
  
  


Warren keeps his mouth so firmly shut that it’s just a thin white line. Voicing his frustration is off the table, not right now at least. If he was alone, he’d probably drink himself into a stupor and ignore the rest - Goddard had been a reason to get back to his feet before, but now it’s gone. So he tries to have Daniel fill the space. He’s lived for the company, for the job, and now he lives for Daniel, what works in theory. Getting back to his feet is meant quite literally right now. He never voiced his frustration to Goddard either, found better ways to deal with it in order to keep his job, and he will do so now again, in order to prevent losing Daniel, because Daniel is a stable constant and he will make it possible.

The thing is… He’s been at bad points in his life before. Both figuratively and literally speaking. There had been missions from which he came back drenched in blood, his own and other people’s and went to debrief like this. He had infections nearly killing him and keeping him off the schedule for weeks, broken bones with the same effect. He’s even been in a coma before, the things that come with the job, right? And he always got back on his feet. For the next mission. For the company. It’s not harder to do it for Daniel. That is not it. It’s harder for him to do it because of what is looming in the background. Without Goddard, without the element that ruled his life for so long. He wouldn’t say it made him what he is - he did that himself, with their help. And still. It ruled his life and now it’s gone, no shadows looming in the dark anymore, not Cutter’s voice like a blade dipped in honey. But the good parts are gone too. Apart from Daniel. Alana is gone too, but he can’t blame Goddard for that, and he sure as hell won’t talk about it. And, in between all of it, he feels humiliated and the feeling is killing him, literally. He can’t stand on his own two feet and even when he got his hand back, crutches remain off the table for now. He has an oxygen mask next to his bed for emergencies and a cannula in his nose at all times, until he is able to get all the oxygen he needs back into his lungs by himself. Food is an entirely different matter. Managing to get to the bathroom on his own is already an accomplishment, and the first day of physical therapy had left him exhausted and in pain and sleeping for the rest of the day, until he woke up to a worried Jacobi, and that is what he hates even more. This kind of attention. He doesn’t complain, they both don’t, when he especially doesn’t. Memories of that first anniversary come back when he thinks of it, of the rule of no complaints. It no longer applies, but to pretend it does makes it easier. Even though he doesn’t want Daniel to see him like this, he does not ask for separate rooms. If Daniel doesn’t want to, then he won’t bring it up. But that also leaves him here, like he is now. Turned away from the door, staring at the window and the light filtering through the blinds, he didn’t open them once and he hasn’t glanced outside even. Into the world they saved. Into the world they are back in. He doesn’t feel like he is back on earth, but it doesn’t really matter. Not a lot of things matter anyway. He is rigid, can’t relax with his back to the door, but he also can’t face Daniel and that wins, so he stares at the blinds or pretends that he is asleep and wishes he were, and he counts the blinds and guesses how long they are and how high the window is. And how long it’ll take until they are allowed out of quarantine, some time, likely. He always stops there, not daring to think of what comes next - like a coward. Like the coward he is. 

He feels the muscles in his back and legs, and he feels his bones, he feels all of his body at once and god he hates it, he is fuming with rage over himself and over how weak he is, over how Daniel sees him like this, he just wants to  _ scream _ . Containing it is not easy but he needs to. Needs to hold onto the control he still has.

There is a sigh from the other bed. 

“I know that you are not asleep” He doesn’t answer, and then bare feet meet linoleum and tap closer, but stop at the other side of the bed, shifting, and then he is next to him, sitting leaned against the same pillows. Warren is still facing away from him, but also doesn't close his eyes. Hesitation, and then a hand on his arm,

“Hey. It’s okay, you know. To feel frustrated” He doesn’t shrug the hand off. The contact is good. Good and… He wants more, doesn’t say so.

“I’m not frustrated” He answers with some sharp edge, but it seems like Jacobi is strangely immune to that. It doesn’t bother him.

“Yeah, and you are also not a totally bad liar right now” 


	2. Hold the fire and hit repeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking, Daniel's take on things, more talking, Kepler has one (1) feeling in general, also, a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized... I can use the 'They were quarantined' tag because they are! Thank you all so much for reading, and pkease enjoy the second chapter.  
> Warning: there'll be fluff. And I blame it on the fact that Kepler is oxygen-deprived, just so you know.  
> The quotes are from the episode 61-transcript and the no-complaints-transcripts, I did not do them, source is linked below, quotes are marked as such in italics.

_ Thank you, Daniel. And goodbye. _

“Jacobi?”

“Yes, Hera” his hands work automatically, setting Minkowsky up on life support, while he looks over to where Eiffel watches Lovelace anxiously and Pryce sits velcro-strapped on one of the beds, dangling her legs. 

“There is another lifesign, but you have to hurry” He freezes mid-motion. The way she says it leaves no room for interpretation who she means. There are not a lot of people on the list, anyway.

“No.” Hera sighs and it echoes through the room. 

“Yes, I’m rerouting the power right now” 

_I said,_ hey! _Really?_ Really? _Are you just physically incapable of admitting that you got it wrong? You know, you’re_ allowed _to make mistakes. As long as at some point, you_ admit _that they’re mistakes! It’s super easy. Heh, repeat after me: “I was_ wrong! _I was wrong, and people died. And the only thing I can do is not be wrong again!_

He stares. With Lovelace recovering and Minkowsky still out, with Eiffel binging his old tapes, there is not much he can do. There is a lot he could do, of course. But he can’t because Daniel Jacobi stares, because Warren Kepler just crashed again. They got his heart beating again, yes, but it’s the third time and they are running out of options. He doesn’t need to be a doctor to know that vital signs on the red scale are bad.

He doesn’t stare at Kepler, though. But at the vile in his hand. He gave up staring, because purple lips and blue and cold fingertips don’t answer him. Because they only make him want to scream. 

“Your decision, Jacobi” Lovelace does not judge. She theoretically has more than one reason to, but she doesn’t. 

“Prep the cryo” he mumbles, shakes his head and puts a hand on Kepler’s wrist, shakes his head, and gets a syringe. 

_ Are you sure you’re feeling alright– _

_ I’m sorry, but what is this? What the hell are you doing? _

_ What am– I’m concerned about– _

_ Oh, you’re  _ concerned _? Where was your concern for the two weeks you let your bosses use me like a wind-up monkey? _

_ Yeah, what was I supposed to do? _

_ How about a little bit of anything? _

_ And what? Get myself shot? Get  _ you  _ shot? No.  _ I  _ played the game. I kept my eye on the bigger– _

No. _ No. That’s the lie you tell yourself. The truth? The truth is that you were  _ afraid. _ And the only thing you did was try to save  _ your hide.

  
A week into their travel and he shouts at the cryo-module. His ribs ache, his broken fingers hurt and his face stings, and he keeps hitting the metal box nevertheless, until he is exhausted, until he floats away. He keeps watching the tapes over and over again, listens to the recordings and gets angrier, because how could he? How, after all of this, how could he not trust Jacobi? And he doesn’t want to get it. He hates him. He hates him with all his heart, and it’s a bright and burning feeling, almost like love, almost like the love he felt for him. So close to it.

“You better come back to me, you have so much to answer for” 

It’s not the best coping mechanism, it’s not even a good one at all, but it’s what he does and it helps. He burns off the anger and at one point, it’s gone. He lights the fuse, lets it burn, and then explodes.    
But afterwards, he is just tired. He aches. He goes to talk to Eiffel and to Minkowsky and to Lovelace, not about anything that concerns him, but about flight patterns, plans. What to do when they are back on earth. 

_ “Thank you, Daniel. And goodbye” _

They are back on earth. Everything takes more energy than it should, walking was almost impossible, breathing hard, but they adapt faster than they should and started working out on the ship already. Jacobi until he passed out, sometimes. He is tired, mostly. And it takes three days until they let him see Kepler, not that he asks, of course, and then finally he does and gets in.    
And leaves right the moment he looks at his ghostly features, the breathing tube, the monitors.   
_ I really hate you sometimes, sir! You’re the worst! _

He comes back three hours later.

_ Young. Don’t _

It takes twelve days for Kepler to wake up. 

_ Great. Door’s right there. _

_ Jacobi–  _

_ Do let it hit you on the way out. _

Three more until he is actually awake. 

_ Yes? Of course I am. You really thought I was going to let Cutter go through with this? With all of humanity on the line? _

And five until Jacobi actually talks to him. 

_ After all, I am still a person. And that means I’m on Jacobi and Minkowski’s side. Even if they don’t think I am _

And at last, seven, until Warren actually talks to Daniel. 

_ There’s about… fifty pounds of fireworks back here. _

_ Yeah! I thought there might be.  _

_ What’s– What’s this for? _

_ For tonight’s celebration. _

_ What? _

_ Yeah. Wanna set them off? _

Jacobi always spent far too much time watching Kepler. He can’t help it, really, he just likes it, and Kepler likes the attention. It had been like their own private game, the  _ Can I help you with something, Mr. Jacobi _ and his  _ No, I got what I need _ , like a code, like a secret shared between pillows and bedsheets and brought into the world, protected by the lack of context. He didn’t stop after Alana died. He looked even closer then, he looked for a sign of a feeling, for any sign he felt sorry. He looked for a human glint he needed to see. Up until then, he had trusted Kepler, no matter what. From then on, he stopped. Because he had no plan anymore, and they lost Maxwell. He took that Kepler lost both temper and control multiple times after that as a cue for the feelings he never showed, because there is an entire different level to it. It could have been Jacobi there. Easily. He could have been the one getting killed there, but the other option, that he had purposely kept him out of there, had been even worse.    
He saw the feelings, not sure if he wanted to that day. The tight voice, measured words, shouting. It’s true what he told Minkowsky - after some time, he figured him out. The speeches, the words, the way he likes to hear himself talk. It’s always been a quirk to him, something that was typical and a part of the person he fell in love with, against all odds. How he had always been insufferable, and Jacobi liked that. Loved that.    
After Alana died, it changed. He wanted to hate him, he did, but the worst part was how it didn’t matter. To none of them. The same way Jacobi did not matter to Kepler all the time, or Maxwell.    
But see, Jacobi spent a lot of time watching Warren Kepler. It’s why he still trusted him for so long, because he figured him out. His underlying plan, his ideas, it’s the reason he shouted at him, asked him to not go with Rachel. Between losing trust and blowing the Hephaestus to kingdom come (in theory, sadly, the thing  _ did _ fall into the star in the end) he figured out something else: how he is definitely not finished with him. 

And then he heard the tapes, saw the feed. Everything got three levels more complicated after that. 

Now, he is back to watching. Space has left them all pale like ghosts, Kepler more so because he is usually outside, never comfortable when confined to an office, and Jacobi less so, because he is covered in yellow and purple bruises still. Always dealing, of course. Before he woke up, he was as pale as the bedsheets, pale enough he could see the freckles on his face - everybody could see them. He dwells on it because Kepler doesn’t like them, he doesn’t like the things that make him memorable, that disturb his job. He keeps his hair short, they all did, but Kepler especially - Jacobi only found out that he has curls after a deep cover mission that was, in summary, six months of running around without a break. Freckles and curls, Jacobi loves it, mostly because Warren hates it. It makes him memorable, and he doesn’t want to be that, it makes him human and they all lost that already, it would make him look like someone who he is not, something he is not. It’s not the formality, Jacobi has seen him wear both a tuxedo and three piece suits and he looks good in everything, but he does prefer practical clothing. Mission clothing. Shirts with soft collars that don’t remind them of the chokehold they’re always in under Mr. Cutter’s watchful eyes.    
He can’t see the freckles now, he has turned away, but his hair is just slightly too long to be considered formal, and the fact that he is wearing the same Goddard-logo-clothes as Jacobi doesn’t help. But it’s not like they have anything real here, like clothes, any personal belongings. He shoves the thought about his own Hoodie, safely tucked in Alana’s desk drawer, away. Because she always stole his clothes, and he stole her pens. All of them, he still has them in his own desk drawer. She started sticking notes to it, wrote on them. There is only one he never snatched, a cheap Eiffel-tower, blue ink and no cap, but the way she kept it made him think of the locket in a package of band-aids, a reminder of an old life he barely remembers. They never talked about it. 

“I know you’re not sleeping” He breaks the silence as much as he breaks himself out of his thoughts. There is no answer, but he gets up anyway, walks over and climbs in next to Warren, waiting for a careful moment before touching him, putting a cast-caged hand on his arm. He half expects him to pull away, but he doesn’t. As much as he wants to leave him fuming quietly, it’s first not fun, and second, he knows why he doesn’t say a word. It’s not hard to figure out, since seeing Kepler actually  _ trying _ is a very rare occurrence.    
“Hey. It’s okay, you know. To feel frustrated” Because it is, for fuck’s sake, they all are. How would they not be? He had been stuck with the same additional oxygen to help him breathe for nearly a week before he managed to not suffer from an asthma-attack when getting up. All of them had to go through this, cartwheeled into the building and left to their own devices apart from doctors in full plastic, Goddard-issued, so at least not asking too many questions. But the point is, all of them had to go through this, and Warren Kepler is no exception. All the while he is, because A), he is late to the party, and B), he is Warren Kepler. 

“I am not frustrated,” Daniel laughs and grimaces when his ribs protest. Yes, of course. He is also totally not pouting, and he is totally not internally murdering half the staff. He would never tell him that he suspects the first, of course. It is kind of… no. He won’t say that. 

“Yeah, and you are also not a totally bad liar right now” Warren just sighs and the absence of a threat lets him get a little more serious again. 

“Listen, you could talk to me. Would be a start, actually” 

“About what?” His voice is still tight, said half through gritted teeth, and he isn’t turning around. He also still hasn’t shrugged Daniel off, and he does still answer. A silent Warren Kepler is more dangerous, he learned that long ago. 

“I know you won’t talk about how you’re doing, so… I know you met physical-therapy-guy. The first time I had therapy with him, I wanted to blow his room up” He doesn’t hear the chuckle but feels it sitting next to him, “There are some loose cables in the room, all the devices… would not be that much of a challenge, really” For a moment it stays quiet between them, and then Warren shifts, slightly, until he is no longer turned away but on his back. Though he closes his eyes, it’s a victory. Even while laying down, his feet only just reach down to Jacobi’s, and he should not enjoy their just visible enough height difference as much as he does. Not that either of them is small or - heaven forbid - tiny, but Daniel is still taller. 

“Impractical. Make it look like an accident, we don’t really know how covered we are right now,  _ Mr. Jacobi _ ” 

“You mean the company? Hera is doing a good job of it, as far as I know” He only talked to her once, through she is of course as omnipresent as she had been on the station.

“I do like the idea of Hera running Goddard” 

“Yeah, same. Alana would have  _ loved _ that” He looks over to where Warren’s mouth is pressed firmly shut. He still has his eyes closed, his face unreadable, except for the fact that it tells everything with that.

“It would be easier if you could just say that you miss her too” Daniel adds quietly and Warren’s eyes snap open. 

“I do. But I don’t think I have the right” Measured. Tight. Confusing, except, no. Daniel does not feel sorry for him, but he gets the fault. 

“To miss her?” He clarifies,

“To say that to you” A heartbeat of silence, and then he looks at him. Sharp and clear, not sleep-muddled or too exhausted to stay open, dark in a pale face. And he actually means it. Daniel stares back. There is a tightness in his throat and then, and he can’t stop it, he starts to laugh. It hurts, his ribs are not healed yet and he coughs and pants and laughs and laughs until he is very sure he’s the one who needs help with the oxygen. By the look Kepler gives him, he thinks the same. He takes wheezing breaths until he is finally able to talk again, and still, Warren looks at him as if he lost his mind. Not so far off the reality, actually. He lost his mind, but it’s probably still in space, fell into the star, no chance of getting it back. 

“You spent way too much time in your head” He pants, “Acting like a human for once won’t just… Kill you, or make anyone see you as a soft teddy bear, you know?” He wipes a tear off his cheek and holds his ribs, it’s not a happy laugh but he also can’t help it. “You miss her, and I wasn’t joking when I said you admitting that would help. I don’t expect you to go sobbing into my t-shirt, but jeez, Warren. Just say it!”

“I miss her” He sighs, and there is a heavy pause where his mouth stays open and he looks for words, “You know how Cutter called you?” He looks to the ceiling now and Daniel just shakes his head, “My golden team. It was more of a threat, I think, to remind me that our team could easily be… not so golden anymore. I handpicked both of you for the mission, one because you were the only ones I trusted, of course, you know that, second because…” he stops and closes his eyes again, and in Daniel’s head, the pieces begin to stick together, “because I didn’t want to leave you behind. I thought the space-mission would be… well, not easy, that’s why I needed the best, but if I picked someone else?” 

“Because Cutter would have either taken it as a sign you didn’t trust us as much as he thought you did, or that you cared too much. And both reasons wouldn’t have ended… too well” It’s obvious. They did missions as a trio, mostly, they were a team. And with Kepler leaving them behind, it meant that he either had a liability now - which meant Goddard had one too, or, that he didn’t think they were up for the ultimate test. Space. In which case they were less than what they were supposed to be, and also better to get rid of. There is not even an in-between, no demotion, no losing the job. Be the best, or stop being anything at all. All three of them knew that, they all knew what happened to the teams that never returned. They all knew what would happen if they screwed up too bad. For Daniel, it added a thrill, for Alana the same. They relied on each other, and they relied on Kepler. There is a third scenario, he realizes, because nothing stayed at the top level with Cutter - his name had been chosen too literally to be a coincidence. He didn’t underestimate Kepler, so he thought about him knowing the options too. And the third, underlying truth was that he knew, that Kepler knew.

“With both of you very dead, very likely. He did a good job on the Hephaestus, and I don’t know exactly how he found out, but he  _ knew _ . It’s why I couldn’t let you know anything about how I could not let this go on, because he would have known” He knew from the moment Kepler picked them to go to space. There had never been a winning-scenario for them, Cutter had them do it because Kepler couldn’t pick anyone else besides the best team, that had to prove how they were the best. 

“We never actually stood a chance” It should not come off as news. It should not come as a surprise, and it’s no real surprise, actually. But… It stings. 

“Not since we boarded the Urania. Not since I got promoted, or you picked up that card” It’s almost said without any voice at all. 

“Okay” he says and runs a hand through his hair, “okay, okay. Not happening” Warrens doesn’t answer or even move, and he shakes his head again, putting a hand on his shoulder and shaking it a little, “come on”

“I’m sorry?” He frowns and opens his eyes again, surely under the impression Jacobi would just leave him alone now that he shared his one feeling. 

“I’m not going to sit inside this damn building feeling bad because of our robot-ex-boss Minkowsky harpooned in space. I need some fresh air, and when I come back and you’re still like this, I’ll just feel bad again. So you’re joining me” He leaves no room for discussion and already looks around for a wheelchair. 

“In case you have forgotten, we are still quarantined, Daniel” There he is again, the real Warren Kepler, the one he missed, and he says his first name just the way he called him Mr. Jacobi. He slips back to it so easily that he can almost ignore the unhidden confusion.

“Yeah, we’re not leaving the building. Are you okay without the extra-oxygen for some time?” 

* * *

It’s strange to see the night sky, but without the stars. The light pollution is too high for them. The medical facilities are not too high up, but far enough to not be seen, not be heard. They didn’t pass anyone in the hallway, all other rooms dark and silent, a dim light in one of them but further down the hall, no noise. Eiffel sleeps down there. Eiffel is the only one of them who doesn’t have nightmares of what happened, Warren thinks. Not that he had them himself. He does. 

Still, the room they enter has to be one of the nicest ones for the higher-ups, if it even has a balcony. Small, and just a square on the corner of the building. But a view it has. Daniel leaves him alone and returns, but he only looks over the railing, to the blinking lights and buildings he can’t see the tops of, to the clouds being turned a purple red by the city lights and night. 

“I missed this. Not people-loud, but… city-noise” No. He’s missed earth. 

“Told you nobody is awake right now” Jacobi shrugs and pulls up a chair next to him. He did tell him that, already knowing he would argue someone would see. 

“Are we even allowed to come into contact with air again yet?” It’s not really a question he means, the air is cold and he enjoys how it stings on his face, how he feels a breeze that is not really fresh, but cold, and doesn’t smell of metal and dust and chemicals.

“Naaah, Hera’s handling the security. And she is fine as long as we don’t leave the building” 

“I don’t suppose you know what’ll happen to it now?” This time it is a genuine question. 

“Goddard Futuristics got in trouble for unsafe space procedures. There is either a lawsuit or Cutter just… surrenders. We’ll settle for the latter, he doesn’t like to go out in the open much so it’ll be fine. Goddard gets shut down for good, and we all get to… leave somewhere to start a new life” 

“Where do you want to go?” He leans against the headrest and turns to look at Daniel. The city lights reflect in his thick glasses, he hasn’t seen him with glasses in some time. Goddard issued him with special treatments and contact lenses, but now he is wearing his glasses again. Kepler always liked them. An issue in the field, but it made him look so…

So him. Like the man he scooped up in that bar years ago. 

“Not sure yet. Europe, most likely. Away from… all this. Cabin in the woods doesn’t sound so bad, but there’d be not much to actually do. And I still need a new name and all that for it to work and I’m not too keen on that, especially since we don’t know how that’ll work now. But I’m also not keen on the press finding out” He shakes his head and looks over to Kepler, “Are you in?” He turns his head away to look back at the city. The air is cold, it’s windy, what day is it even? He shivers, but is not sure if it is because of the memory of cold or the actual cold. Europe, depending on where, would also be cold. A cabin in the woods, very likely. But he’d have Jacobi there. He doesn’t realize that he puts a blanket over him until it’s there and blinks in surprise, “You’ve been enough of a popsicle” he simply states and shrugs. It’s warm, so that’s what he got from inside earlier.

“Norway has… a lot of space to retreat to” he murmurs after some time, “I wouldn’t prefer Russia, if that’s alright with you. But maybe Sweden?” He’d actually prefer the south, but nobody said vacations were off the table. The north feels right for Daniel, at least, he can see him there, just that he thought they all wanted some warmth after space.

“How high up? Northern lights-style?” a nudge on his shoulder and yes, he remembers. They have seen this before. 

“And white nights. Sounds beautiful. And far away from… all of this” He looks to the city again. The lights, one goes out and another on. He looks at it and… Yes. He’s missed it. And yes, he’d go anywhere with him, because being on his own sounds bad right now, and if he’d lose him now, he’ll lose him forever. He wants to make this work, and a little cold won’t change that. 

“Are you honest with me, Daniel?” he asks at some point. It’s cold, even with the blanket, and he hears his breath wheezing. He’ll still push it until… At least until Jacobi has answered him. 

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not an idiot” He sees Jacobi grin at that but continues to speak before he can get out the word ‘debatable’, which he most likely has on his tongue, “Coming back to earth like that? After the mission, after nearly dying and being cryogenic frosted? I should be barely alive, let alone breathing at all, or moving. In any case, I should be dependent on more than just…” he gestures around, “a wheelchair and some breathing-help” It’s an exaggeration, but not too far off. 

“Would you believe if I told you that you are just very stubborn?” He laughs at that and clears his throat when it sounds more like a gasp. He would like to believe that. 

“No, I would not” He turns his head to the side, “Lovelace?” he then asks, because the question has been brewing in his mind and he thinks he figured it out by now. There are not a lot of options, are there? 

“We didn’t… I didn’t…”  _ You don’t get to leave so easily, asshole _

“Okay, you died! You died, okay! And I couldn’t stand it, we brought you in alive and Minkowsky and Lovelace too, and I managed! You were alive, and then you just… kept crashing. Even when we tried putting you in cryo, you kept crashing, and I could not let you leave like that. Hera showed me the audios, I couldn’t live with… without knowing why” He sees the way Jacobi’s hands are tightly pressed together, but he is not finished yet, “So yes, Warren. Lovelace’ blood, and you can yell at me and be upset and angry, I don’t even care.” his eyes are hard when he looks at him, “But I won’t apologize. For once in my life I needed you and I wanted you and you do not get to turn away from that. You messed up, and you will have to sort this out. So, by all means… I needed you. And I still need you to be there, and I can hate myself for it, because I still believe you can do some good. We can” his hand goes up to his hair and Warren barely catches it on time to wrap his fingers around it. He is almost too slow. 

“Why would I yell at you for saving my life?” he asks softly and sighs, can’t stop himself from smiling just a bit, “I won’t”  _ won’t ever again  _ is what he thinks but he can’t say it. There is so much more. Daniel revealed something to him he doesn’t know if he can give it back. The SI-5 time feels so far away now, so so far away. 

“You never wanted it. I know your opinions on the Aliens, and you had no choice. It’s not… unreasonable to think you could be pissed”

“Apart from Pryce, all of you have it as far as I know. Makes me less suspicious” 

“Are you…” He squeezes his hand as much as he is able to, not nearly as tightly as he wants to. Or as Daniel would need him to. 

“Bigger picture, Daniel. And to be perfectly honest… I worked it out already. The five stages of grief are over, I’ll just deal now” 

“I missed you” 

“So you said already” 

“No, I missed you. Like in, I missed the you-you, who enjoys hearing himself talk, and gives whisky-speeches. The you… before space” it takes a heartbeat between the words before Daniel continues, “the one I loved, and the one I know loved me” 

He doesn’t know what to answer to that. He never stopped loving Daniel. That’s a fact. He kept all personal feelings locked away, until the moment Maxwell got shot, and then afterwards, until he lost his hand and he broke again, for just a moment. And then, he broke completely, when he saw Jacobi getting mind-controlled. Snapped, even.

“I can’t guarantee you to be still the same” he starts, slowly, “but my feelings about you never changed. While I… I don’t know if I am good for you” He phrases it carefully. 

“Not your decision to make” Jacobi cuts in immediately and Kepler closes his eyes. He knows his hand is cold, because otherwise Jacobi wouldn’t feel so warm. And he thinks about it - the cold isn’t so bad with someone warm. 

“And I won’t make it. I’m just telling you this so…” he pauses and swallows, takes a breath because somehow he is short on those, “So you know I’d understand if you changed your mind. And I wouldn’t hold you to it” A lump in his throat he won’t give in to. He doesn’t know how anymore. Daniel doesn’t answer at first and he doesn’t look. He’s giving Daniel an easy way out, and while he is not exactly prepared for him to take it, doesn’t expect him to, he lets him consider, leaves the choice to him. Because Daniel had been right. All he could do, back on the station and here too, is making sure he doesn’t make even more mistakes, and if the promises Daniel made are not what he actually meant? Again he wishes for Maxwell. But she is not here, and she won’t be ever again.

“I don’t want to hold you to what you’ve said, because I don’t want to hurt you”  _ again. Even more. all the time _ he finally says when the silence gets unbearable.

“Oh for fuck’s sake” And then there are lips on his, literally stealing his breath away. 

He never forgot the feeling of kissing Daniel. There is meaning in it, not the usual hollow feeling he needs to fill with more, it’s warmth and like explosives in his mind, dynamite around them, dangerous like it, burning like the fuse and as addictive as arson can be. He is helpless and he never gives up control except for the situations when Daniel lets him, kissing him is sweet like death and as comfortable too, means more than a shot through the heart while knocking him out all the same. 

He missed it. It takes half a second for him to put his good hand on Daniel’s neck and deepen it, he is warm and Warren is cold, his head spins and keeps spinning with it. He doesn’t know when he breaks the kiss to lean their foreheads together and laugh, because why would he not? It’s ridiculous, it’s unbelievable and he thinks that still, even after meeting aliens and learning about Cutter, this is still less believable than all of it had been before. He shakes with laughter and the single tear from it escaping his eye, he shakes and trembles and leans against Daniel with it, who says something and he can’t listen, just keeps laughing, hoarse and quiet and wheezing. Daniel sounds so far away and he wants to get even closer because of that, he wants to be because they can be, and then there is a hand on his chest, and Daniel’s face swims in front of him, slowly coming back into focus.

“Warren, are you alright?”

“Hm?” he tries his best to answer but still laughs, wheezing, it hurts but he can’t really stop, because he still can’t believe it.

“Look at me, hey, hey” he is crouching in front of him now, still holding his hand. Warren’s fingertips are blue, he is panting and breathing is strange, why doesn’t he get enough air? Oh, no, he knows why, and he sees Jacobi internally rolling his eyes too, realizing why he can’t stop laughing the same moment he does. 

“I’ll get you back inside, bringing you out here without oxygen was probably not the best plan I ever conducted” He really wants to answer that, answer and laugh even more, but finds that he doesn’t have the air for it. He keeps his eyes shut when they get back inside and warmth washes over him, concentrates on breathing and nothing else, tries to stop laughing and barely makes it, concentrates on that. Certainly not on the cold settling into his bones again, or the absence of Jacobi’s warm hand. His fingers are tingling, his lips too, he’s had it before, he shouldn’t be surprised by the feeling, it should not make him feel… panicked? Trapped. Trapped in a too tight space, in a tin can in space-

But then the warmth is back, covering his own trembling hand when he presses the plastic rim of the oxygen mask onto his face, 

“That’s it” He needs a few breaths until his vision is even closely back to normal and raises his eyebrows at Jacobi. Pathetic, weak, of no use, but then it’s not pity in his eyes. 

“Oh, don’t give me that look. A week ago you were barely able to take one breath on your own, you don’t get to be hard on yourself now. That’s my job” His eyebrows rise higher because really, Jacobi should know better, he is stupidly oxygen deprived and… Hell he missed him so much. He earns a push against the shoulder that sends him backwards with a grunt.

“Sorry. Okay, I’ll help you back into bed, alright?” He can’t raise his eyebrows even higher, how is he supposed to get up? Getting in the chair had been, well, not easy, but manageable. Right now he feels like rubber, and barely thinks he can hold the plastic mask to his face on his own. Just sleeping like this sounds fine, he’s slept in so much worse places before. He would very much like to inform Daniel of that, but he doesn’t exactly possess the strength or air to do so. Maybe if he gives in and just closes his eyes? Maybe then he’ll get it? It’s easy, closed eyes mean sleep after all. There is more to this, but he can’t exactly focus so closing his eyes it is. 

“No, give me one minute” he sluggishly blinks at him and then his hand is gone and there is tightness around his head and he can still breathe. The world shifts and he is back in space, just that he is not and it’s warm again and he really doesn’t see why he should stay awake anymore after that.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. I do think Kepler makes up for something with all the talking, a little bit of height at least. And since I once imagined a young Kepler, like, younger, he isn't that old actually, I had this really ridiculous image in my head and now I do think Kepler looked really cute and hated it so much. He is not cute, of course. And he still does not deserve this. BUT I STILL LOVE THEM OKAY :'D Also, I'd jump to the last chapter next week, except if there is anything anyone wants to read before that. If you have a scene in mind you'd like? I'd love to write more, but would otherwise conclude with a time-skip several weeks forward. So ask away!  
> SOURCE:  
> https://w359transcripts.tumblr.com/tagged/No%20complaints  
> https://w359transcripts.tumblr.com/tagged/brave%20new%20world


	3. Like a funeral needs an audience, like a sceptic needs a church (it's not fun unless it hurts)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares, Sweden, this is too soft and I am not sorry.

He is at it again. Watching Kepler sleep. It’s a strange view, seeing him go from laughing to falling asleep in the matter of minutes, but it’s no surprise. He still looks so tired, the deep shadows under his eyes refuse to vanish. And today had been a lot, doesn’t Jacobi know it, and he didn’t utter a word of how spent he must have been. And, and that is surprising, not a word about his pride. That is the most interesting, there is no person prouder than Warren Kepler, and the way he kept his mouth shut, kept so forcibly quiet about it, it tells Daniel more than it should. It tells him that he is trying. It tells him that he doesn’t know how to proceed, the careful questions about Goddard being another factor. Their kiss. He doesn’t want to lose him, which is great, of course, since Daniel really didn’t go through all the space-and-saving-his-life ordeal to just have him chicken out now. He really wants this to work, or he does for now. Maybe Daniel’s words actually did something. He leans forward, his own legs aching too now, and picks up the blanket to throw over Warren’s sleeping form. He doesn’t even stir. 

  
“Good night, Warren” he mutters and hesitates, before he tucks the blanket around him. He always wanted to do that, but never did. They were not that kind of couple, and he isn’t sure they are now. But he won’t notice, so he does it and makes sure he is breathing better now, breathing at all, before retreating to his own bed. He does that fairly often, making sure he breathes. He doesn’t want to sleep alone, not after getting a taste of that kiss, of that feeling in his mind saying  _ more  _ and  _ you fool, falling for him again _ and  _ finally  _ and  _ I missed you _ . He wants more, he wants to climb in next to him like he did when he was awake, have him soak in his warmth since he is so, so cold still.    
But he does not go over. He just turns to his side and in the dim light of the hallway, pulls his own blanket over his shoulders and closes his eyes, letting sleep take him. 

* * *

Kepler startles awake to the sound of a strangled cry. He sits upright before actually noticing, his hands gripping the bedsheets tightly, and for a moment he fears that it had been him who made the noise, him to scream or cry, but he doesn’t remember the dream, just waking up. His heart is racing, however, and only just calming down, enough to let him get his bearings - and he is not the one making the noise. His reflexes kick in too late, he hasn’t even checked the room yet, and it’s entirely possible that someone came in to finish them off. The SI-5 did the exact same thing, and it doesn’t matter how a hypothetical intruder came in. But there is nobody in here with them, when another muffled cry comes from his right. 

“Daniel?” he asks and squints over to the other bed, “Daniel, are you alright?” He is not, stupid question, he doesn’t know why he even asks. Even with the only light coming from the hallway he sees him tossing around, and it takes a split second more before he gets it. It’s just not himself who has the nightmare. Simple and complicated as that. Simple because it means Daniel will be some degree of okay, complicated because it leaves him to wake him up, in the hopes of not startling him too badly. And also, it leaves him with the problem to get to him. Even with all the training he takes, he is still not very good on his legs, and that is as frustrating as unsurprising. They are still not leaving the building, and the only people seeing him like this are the rest of the crew and the doctors in plastic suits, and they saw him far worse. There had been an incident which exposed him to a drug that made him attack Maxwell and Jacobi, and while he didn’t remember all of it, he won’t ever forget waking up with a voice hoarse from screaming it out, a stitched up head-wound from when Maxwell knocked him out, and being restrained tight enough that it left blue and black marks all over his body. As for the crew of the former Hephaestus station, what can he say? Eiffel doesn’t remember ever being afraid or intimidated by him and Minkowsky and Lovelace, well, both of them remember him screaming his voice out once again when his hand got evaporated. So, not much to save there. So long story short, he is still mostly relying on help in getting from point A to B, and now, there is none. He’s still getting used to the forearm crutches and it’s not like that would be an option right now. Still, he is stubborn. Through all the frustration and pain, he thinks himself one stubborn son of a bitch and that’s what he is going to be now. He grunts when his feet land on the floor and immediately supports himself against the next wall, tilting sideways. The heavy feeling shifts and he stumbles over to where Daniel is with difficulty, nearly falling on top of him when he can support himself on the bed. His arms shake and the few steps leave him breathless. At least the world is not spinning as badly as it did the first days. He blamed it on the neatly stitched cut on his head then, but can’t anymore. 

“Daniel” he shakes his shoulder and he flinches away, still asleep, still tossing. 

“No, don’t! I don’t want this, stop, stop!” He swallows, but doesn’t even consider calling a nurse. What he does, however, is to catch one of Daniel’s flying hands in his when he nearly hits the bedrail with his broken fingers. He tries the gentle approach then. 

“Daniel, it’s alright. You’re alright, but you need to wake up” 

“Don’t do this, please!” he curls up and ironically, gives Warren enough space to roll onto the bed next to him. It’s tight and not comfortable, but this way he gets his cold fingers on Daniel’s face, makes him turn his head to him and lets go of his hand to shake him again, keeps him from thrashing around that way, distinctly aware that he is still hurt, still bruised from a fight Kepler wishes he never picked. But even shaking him doesn’t work, and when he nearly hits him in the nose, it’s enough.

“Jacobi!” It’s louder now, “Wake up, that’s an order!” He doesn’t know what to do anymore, and it’s not the right way, not how it should go. But he tries anyway, because he needs to. He needs to get him to wake up, to stop the torment.    
And it works, because with a louder gasp that sounds dangerously like a  _ No _ , Daniel’s eyes snap open. His face is warm, wet with tears and sweat, and Warren keeps his fingers on his cheek to make him see, make him look at him.    
“Daniel, it’s alright. It’s alright, you’re okay, it was a dream” he whispers and grips his warm hand again when he sees the haunted look in his eyes, how they dart around, squinted from the light, “We’re on earth, you’re safe. You’re safe now” he repeats it until Daniel finally actually at him and mouths his name, without voice, without even any sign of it. 

“Right here” He murmurs and pulls him close as much as he is able to, which is not much, but the tug is enough of a sign for Daniel, as it seems, and he curls around him, his head on his chest, half nuzzled in the crook of his neck. His hair tickles Warren’s chin and he just leans in so his cheek is on his head, 

“Right here. You’ll be okay” he whispers and brings a shaky hand up to put on his back, “It’s okay” It’s not, but it is for now. It may help for now, if nothing else. He will be okay, whatever it takes. A thought made out of fear for him and a rough awakening, but it doesn’t matter  _ how _ he does it,  _ how _ they manage. That is, and he nearly smiles at the thought, flexible. His plans nowadays are not really flexible anymore, he relies more on time and timing, usually Jacobi’s method, he’s grown accustomed to it through missions and explosions. Because Warren is not planning missions anymore, but a life. Which is a lot harder, all things considered, and it works better with measuring time. But this? This is a plan. And he can work with it. If all he can do is to just be here? Then he’ll do it, the same way he is used to doing what it takes. Daniel doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t really cry either. Tears do leak out of his eyes and onto Warren’s shirt, but there is still no sound escaping his lips for a long time. He isn’t panicking either, but Warren can feel his racing heart and shaky breaths. None of them talk, until, and Warren half thought him asleep at this point, he mutters a shaky

“Don’t leave” and looks up. 

“Not going anywhere, anytime soon, Daniel” He puts emphasis on the last word, to make sure it’s obvious that he means what he says, that he is sincere with it. Because he won’t go anywhere anytime soon. At least not alone. And not unsupported, but the sarcasm is just a byproduct of habit at this point.    
“Want to talk about it?” Daniel sighs.    
  
“Turns out being a remote controlled puppet… does leave some memories” He winces with the memory.    
“I can still feel that… thing on my neck. And being distinctly aware of how wrong it is, but not able to do anything. I was in there, but also… not really” Warren carefully moves his hand until his fingers are on the back of Daniel’s neck. It makes him shiver, but that’s not the point. This close he sees the fading bruises on his skin and is careful not to touch them. 

“Can you feel that?” he asks quietly and puts his hand where he knows the device sat, because he still sees it too. He saw Daniel way more than he wanted to, and he knows they both remember. He nods and Warren leaves his cold hand there. 

“Nothing there. Nobody controls you, and nobody is in your head besides you” 

“I know, just…” he trails off. 

“It’s alright. Just because I never look like it I do have sleepless nights too” Warren reminds him and carefully pries his good hand away from where he is tugging at his hair.

“Have you looked in a mirror recently?” 

“Oh, yes I have. I look worse than that one time- Oh, I never told you that story, didn’t I?” Daniel chuckles, disguises it as a cough, “I was stationed in France, of all places, near Vichy. Now, I know you learned all your lessons about the second World War, but let me…”    
It’s made up, this time, at least. Not the actual history, but the story. Not all of them are, the most ridiculous ones are not, but mixing all of it gives it an aura of mystery, or so he likes to think. It’s entirely just that, tonight: A story. Just like them. 

* * *

It doesn’t take as long as it could have to sort out the legal matters. With Hera in charge and acting as if Cutter was still in office, it only took three days out of quarantine for their papers and finances to be in order. With the company breaking down on purpose, the whole team got their fair share of money from accounts nicely tucked away for whatever identity Mr. Cutter had planned next for himself. Three days after a month mostly inside, and he counts the days because it’s all he can do, they are out. It’s almost overwhelming, stepping out into the light, stepping out into a world with more than five people at least, and seven at most. They go shopping first, and get plane tickets second within the span of day four. With the price tag still on their suitcases, they take the next available flight to Europe and to a safehouse, back to less people. The flight makes Daniel anxious, and he sees the way Kepler acts the tension in his hands that he feels the same, he always used to look so eased in any crowd, but Jacobi takes his arm at the airport and gets no complaint. The european airport has less people, and they only meet a handful of them driving to the house. It did surprise him that Warren has it, and even more that he kept it secret from Goddard, but he just shrugs and tells him to look out for spiders when they enter. It’s six days after being out of quarantine. He still smells the medical wing. He still smells it and feels it, no matter how long he showered. The only thing that smells different is Alana’s sweatshirt. He did have the heart to enter her office at some point. Took her pen, the few personal belongings she had. The trinkets and souvenirs. He also went to her flat, taking all her notebooks with him and making sure the rest would be taken care of the way they once talked about. Because of course they talked about it. He’ll check the notebooks and burn them afterwards. He took the locket from his own drawer too, it’ll land in the fire with the notes. He noticed Kepler getting something from his own office too, heard him there but left him alone. Only later that day, he had seen the actual Kepler with wrapped knuckles and on the floor of what used to be Cutter’s office - now torn apart. They didn’t talk about it. Still he knows Minkowsky went there too at some point, because the glass-door hadn’t been broken before.

  
“Thought you’d like it” Is the first thing Warren says when Daniel has finished his tour around the house ten minutes after arriving. It’s not a big place, though it does have two bedrooms and a big bathroom, but that’s Warren Kepler for you, isn’t it? They are located upstairs, with the stairs themselves not even making a single sound that isn’t swallowed by a thick carpet. The kitchen is also generous, and connected to a living room that contains mostly bookshelves, half staffed with the kind of mindless distractions he knows Alana loved to take apart. He doesn’t look through those further, just finds Warren sitting in the kitchen, forearm crutches leaned against the table. It’ll be a while until he gets off them completely, and Jacobi still uses his own cane for walks that are more than a few steps. It makes it easier, but they don’t talk about the stairs yet. 

“You kept  _ this _ from Goddard. How?” he demands and sits down next to him. Warren raises his eyes, and there it is again, that small smile, half mysterious and only annoying, now, that it’s not about their lives being in danger anymore. 

“I simply left no trace. Asked Maxwell to make sure there was none”    
  


“Alana knew? And I didn’t?” A pause and then Warren sighs and gestures up the stairs, like Daniel is a child and it needs explaining.    
  
“Why do you think it has two bedrooms, Daniel?” 

“You actually planned to get us all back to earth then” It’s far-stretched because the house must have been bought far earlier, but still. 

“Of course I did. And Goddard is the sort of employer to use you until you die. I wanted to be prepared that if I died and found myself alive, there was a place to go” he runs a hand through his hair and shrugs, “or you, both of you, for that matter”   
  
“We were all ready to die on the job, you made sure of that” He is still sceptical, and to his surprise Kepler laughs. 

“Yes, we all were. Like we were supposed to be. But like you said… I always have a plan. And there always is a bigger picture, this here being that it’s always good to have a space… off the grid” Something clicks in Jacobi’s mind. 

“In case you messed up. Or we did, and Cutter-” Warren interrupts him halfway

“A safety net for a variety of possibilities” Daniel snorts a laugh and Warren looks away. So he did care, in the end.    
“I’m not having that conversation while sober” he finally says and rubs a hand over his face, one hand still bruised, the other wrapped, “Though I didn’t think I would need that so soon, since the last time I drank that Scotch, I thought I was going to die” Daniel snorts at that, because only Warren Kepler would compare talking about feelings to nearly being blasted out of an airlock, nearly dying from hypothermia.    
  
“Hey, look at me” He leans to the side so they are closer, and Warren does. His blue eyes piercing and clear again, his lashes and brows unnaturally black against his pale skin. The orange dots over his nose and cheeks. Daniel puts a hand over it and strokes his thumb over them. Kepler hates them. They make him remarkable. It’s bad for an agent to be remarkable. It’s perfect for Daniel when he looks at him. He leans forward and lets their lips meet, feels Warren push back immediately. It takes a while before he pulls back, but this time, none of them need extra oxygen after it, even if Daniel would love to kiss him until they both do. 

“So, two bedrooms?” he teases and Warren leans his forehead against his shoulder. 

  
“Shut  _ up _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that chapter took so long, I'm preparing for Whumptober xD. Thank all of you for reading, leaving kudos and commenting. I still love to hear your opinions, especially on the ending.

**Author's Note:**

> Quick in: Kepler will be (physically) alright in the end. But for now, he is not, and if it's only to keep him in one place. The referenced mission in France will be in my Whumptober-prompt fills :)


End file.
